


Mother's Sin

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A Lannister Always Pays his Debts, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brotherly Affection, Child Death, Child Murder, Gen, Hear me Roar, House Lannister, King Tommen, Kings & Queens, Myrcella's Avenged, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommen has lost everything with the death of Myrcella, and he will avenger her, by taking everything from Ellaria Sand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother's Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still horribly infuriated that Ellaria killed Myrcella in the tv-show. It's just not who she is! Anyway, if this is how they've decided to butcher her character, then I will give her what she deserves. She can't argue with the logic, now can she?

Perhaps he’s done something to offend the gods. Surely it must be that, for why else would they steal him of his family? Joffrey was a cruel brother, so it was no big loss when he died. Sansa was a sweet girl, but she only married in a few moons ago. Uncle Tyrion was always good to him, but his mother never allowed him much influence in his life. Grandfather Tywin was tolerable, but he never showed him any affection. It was Margaery’s imprisonment that hurt most, only to be shortly followed by his mother, and now his sister is dead. What could he have possibly done to cause such offence? Joffrey was crueler, and it had cost him only his life. Tommen would rather be dead.

 

The fury comes from nowhere. It’s new, strange, but powerful. It fills his body and clouds his mind. He hardly feels it when his hand crashes through the glass, he doesn’t even know he’s done it till he sees the blood on his knuckles.

 

“Find me who killed her,” he says, a darkness flooding his voice that sounds strangely like his mother.

 

“Your Grace,” someone says, but Tommen doesn’t care to hear him.

 

“Find them!” he roars, probably for the first time looking the part of a King. His eyes widen with fury, his fists clench with rage, and all he wants is to burn Dorne to the ground. Myrcella was young and beautiful and _healthy_ when she left.

 

The people scurry away, leaving him to his madness, his pain. The minute they’re gone, and he’s left alone in an empty throne room, he sinks to the step, tears clouding his hollowed eyes. His lovely sister is gone, dead, taken too soon by some _faceless_ villain.

 

He can practically see her, still a child instead of the woman he imagines she’d grown into. He sees her sitting in the gardens under a shady tree with a blanket spread out beneath her. There’s flowers in her hair and a shawl draped over her shoulders. She’s smiling as brightly and widely as she did on her seventh nameday, when Uncle Jaime hoisted her into his arms and danced with her all night, singing off key, and swinging her about.

 

_“Tommen!”_ she calls out, musical laughter falling from her lips. The sun is illuminating her hair, making it shine like the crown she’d always cherished.

 

“Myrcella,” he whispers, the tears gliding down his cheeks as he watches her wave, still smiling, still laughing.

 

_“I love you Tommen,”_ she sings, spinning in the sun that isn’t there, in a field that isn’t real, as a girl gone from this world.

 

He wants to rise, run after her as she dances into the wind, take her by the arm and pull her against him. If only she were real.

 

Her laughter echoes off the walls, a haunting reminder of a girl moons dead. Tommen shakes, his heart ripping in two. Myrcella may have grown into a woman, she may be his elder sister, but she left a girl, not much more than a child and in some screwed up way he feels as if she is the younger and he the elder. Older brothers protect little sisters, and he has failed her.

 

* * *

 

When they drag Oberyn’s lover into the throne room, he wants to feel something other than hate. He’s not his brother, he’s not cruel or monstrous, and only monsters are happy to kill. This woman is grieving, a fate he knows all too well. His family is why her lover is dead. He _wants_ to feel sorry for her, understand her, but he can’t. Not when he still hears Myrcella’s laughter in the dead of night. Not when he walks the halls, chasing her ghost. She was his everything, his only friend in a world of backstabbers and mistrust.

 

He used to sleep beside Myrcella, when storms raged outside the windows of the Keep. She would hug him close and whisper that they can weather the storm together. Despite the fear in her own eyes, she’d held strong for him.

 

_“Tommen…”_

 

Her voice mocks him, calling out to him like they are both small children playing in the gardens. She’s gone, forever, but the worst of her remains. The parts of her that stick with you and never let you go keep him awake at night and torment him in the day.

 

“You blame my grandfather, my mother, for the death of your lover,” he says, doing all he can to keep the fury in check. His blood boils at the mere sight of her.

 

“They murdered him! They killed him like they killed Elia and her children!” she screams, defiant even against certain death.

 

“You killed Myrcella in their place… in the place of those you consider responsible…” It’s not a question, so he doesn’t phrase it as one.

 

“My Oberyn was dead while she laughed and played like she’d not a care. I would stab Cersei and Tywin myself if I could. I took what was there. I got my revenge,” she spits angrily.

 

Tommen looks to the Sand Snakes, tied up off to the side. He doesn’t look at Ellaria when he continues, “My sister paid for the sins of my family, her mother, my mother. You saw fit to murder the sister of the King, the betrothed of your would-be nephew, and so I will repay you in kind.” His eyes flicker to Ellaria and watches with satisfaction as her eyes grow wide.

 

“No, you cannot! They’ve done nothing!” she screams, the guards tightening their hold on her as she trashes about.

 

“Neither had Myrcella,” he says coldly, “I will not hurt them all, just your youngest and dearest.” He is not his brother, but he is condemning a girl of seven to die. “Loreza Sand, bastard of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand, will die by poison with her mother there to comfort her in her final moments. My will be done, for I am King Tommen.”

 

“Long live the King!” those that listen chant. They are the same ones that cheered for the head of Ned Stark, who cried at the wedding of his brother. They are not people to be pitied, for they hold no loyalty, but he nods, and rises from his throne. He walks out with his head held high, effectively dismissing the court. As he returns to his chambers, to await the news that his first true act as King has been done, he nearly falls apart. He’s condemned a girl younger than Myrcella to die. He’s no better than the whore. She is just another casualty of a mother’s sin.


End file.
